


Click.

by Bubblegum_monroe



Category: The Arcana (Visual Novel)
Genre: Breakfast, Fluff, Happily Married, Modern AU, Other, absolutely no twist endings here, illness mention
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-12
Updated: 2019-06-12
Packaged: 2020-05-01 18:09:02
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,480
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19183045
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bubblegum_monroe/pseuds/Bubblegum_monroe
Summary: It's a warm morning, and the sound of pancakes cooking on the stove is a welcome one. On mornings like this, Asra loves to watch his lover and reminisce on his favourite memories.





	Click.

_ Click _ .   
_ Click. Click.  _

It’s a warm morning, the sunlight through the window is golden. It’s lazy too, just the smell of pancakes cooking and even the massive cat, Garbage, who usually might be causing a fuss at this hour was curled up on a chair across from Asra. 

_ Click. Click _ . 

Piece by piece, the box in his hands slots into place. It’s beautifully painted, even gold foil added for some extra character. He’s fiddling with it more than he intends to solve it. He’s done it plenty of times at this rate he could do it dizzy with it behind his back drunk.

He has done that. 

The sizzle of the pan sounds through the kitchen as his love pours more pancake mix onto it. She’s beautiful in the light like this. Silhouette against the window, wearing the satin shift that she’d intended to wear to bed before certain activities quickly required it’s removal from her body. He follows thin, straight lines of her tattoos up her thighs and arms. Over her chest and shoulders. They were new, and beautiful. 

_ Click _ . 

There’s dark marks among them, on her thighs and chest. Up to her neck. 

Her hair falls with soft curls at the end, down her back. When he’d first met her, the ends hit the back of her knees and she’d cut it since then. Only to her mid thigh, of course. They’d dyed it together recently. Laughing together in the bathtub and massaging it through the impossible length of her hair. He’d made them both something sweet to eat while she washed it out, and after they’d set to making their bathroom  _ white _ again. She’d said, again, they should just turn it black so they didn’t have to actually do this.

She’s humming something.

_ Click. Click.  _

It’s a song she’s favoured for a while now, though he can’t quite put a name to it.   
Actually he thinks she never even told him.

He puts the box down onto the table and gets up to stand behind her. Arms wrapped tight around her waist. Lips pressing to her bare shoulder just briefly. She is soft and warm. This morning like she is comfort personified. A bed at the end of the day, an embrace when coming home.    
His hands rubbing up and down her sides, smiling as she turns her head to kiss his jaw. Like she had yesterday when he bought the dress she thought would look good on him with some minor adjustments. Eagerly pinching the fabric to show how it would look once they got it fitted properly. His heart swelling to see her as excited as he was feeling. 

She’d made a joke, something about it was a shame they weren’t a similar size so she could steal this dress off of him. He’d kissed her, happy and hard to keep connected through his laugh but enjoyed nonetheless. 

She flips the pancake in the pan. Tossing it up into the air, he lifts his arm and her elbow slides through the gap made by the movement to catch it again. Synchronized, practiced. He’s been elbowed more than a few times when he wants to hold her like this. She moves the frying pan over the stove again, and the golden ring on her finger glints in the sunlight. 

_ Marriage _ . It’s something alright.    
He still gets butterflies in his stomach, not nervous ones, very happy ones. 

Marriage hadn’t seemed like much of an option with anyone else. 

It’d been another warm morning like this when he realised he really, really wanted to. Laying back in bed as he watched her brush her hair. One half of his face buried in the pillow still, he followed the curve of her body. The line of her breast, her stomach, her hips.    
Mainly, he was mesmerized as he watched her twist soft locks into a bun to get most of it out of the way. The rest trailing down. The tired but satisfied smile she had as she made sure her hair was secure before picking his shirt he’d worn the previous day up off the floor and put it on. The way she lifted the collar to her nose to sniff it. How she hugged herself even though he was right  _ there _ . 

Happy, in a moment that would’ve been private even from him if he hadn’t woken up. 

He shifts, and the bed squeaks. Rolling onto his back, arms opening for her when she turns with a grin and climbs back onto the bed with him. Finding her place in his arms, head on his shoulder. She kisses his collarbone, and he squeezes her tightly.

And he thinks that he cannot wait to spend the rest of his life with mornings like this. He does not realise he even thought it until a little while later, when he watches her sway in circles with her cat in the kitchen while he cooks them breakfast. He cannot wait to spend the rest of his life with her, with mornings like this. With even a cat like that. 

Their wedding had been beautiful. A mess of colour, hanging lanterns and lights, fabric draped all over. Flowers, even Eos’ cat had behaved himself for the night and been dressed for the occasion. It looked beautiful, magical even. Eos’ brother had insisted on shaving him the day of, which he suspected was mostly an excuse so he could hold a razor to Asra’s neck and give him one last shovel talk. He’d said it was a Greek tradition, which was as much an admittance of it being an excuse as any, as neither of them had shown much favour for tradition before that day or after. 

He’d married her, happy tears in his eyes when he kissed her for the first time as her  _ husband _ . Lifted her up in his arms and spun her around, his  _ wife _ .    
She’d changed, from a white wedding dress to a royal purple one for their reception. He’d been barred from her dressing room, everyone knew they might not make it if he’d been the one to help her change. 

It was a beautiful, wonderful night.

He is taken back to now, with their rings on their hands and pancakes cooking. They don’t have plans for today, and after this they will more than likely cuddle on the couch all day or go back to bed for a cycle of napping, cuddling, fucking and laughter filled conversation. 

He’ll do anything as long as she’s right there by his side.

Maybe in weeks, or months, or years, he’ll stand here with her again. Her stomach round with  _ their _ child, or children, happy and whole. 

He kisses the curve between her neck and shoulder. Her head turns, nose pressing to the curve of his cheek for a moment. 

“‘Love you.” She murmurs, lips curled into a soft smile. Even the smallest sign of happiness from her lights up the world. She turns the stove off, moves the pan away. Turning around in his arms and wrapping her arms around his neck. Twirling locks of his hair around her fingers. 

“I love you too.” He says, and means it truly. More than he has for anyone else, he cannot see a single possibility where she isn’t by his side or he her’s. He brings his hands down to her hips, fingers splayed, thumbs pressing against her abdomen. He kisses her forehead. “Eos, I-”

He’s interrupted with a wet cough, she stumbles back out of his arms and holds the inner part of her elbow to her mouth. Bent over with the force of the cough behind it, he places his hand on her back. Saying her name, worried.

Then they both see the blood, Eos felt it of course, tasted it.    
But they both see the blood, splattered over her skin. Thick with phlegm. Asra freezes, heart racing and snapping to action again only when her coughing starts up. Grabbing a tissue, her inhaler from the cupboard above the fridge. Pressing it into her hand, wiping the blood off of her arm.  

But twenty minutes later, the pancakes are left to go cold on the kitchen counter. The top most pancake partially eaten by the unsupervised cat, now sat in front of the door.    
Waiting. 

Waiting.  
Waiting.   
Waiting.   
Waiting. 

When the door opens, finally, and only Asra comes home. Garbage does not move, letting Asra step around him without a fight. Eos will follow after surely.

He waits. And does not move until hours later, when he has grown too hungry to keep his vigil.

Then he goes right back to waiting. 

And a week later, he finds himself curled up on Asra’s lap. Still waiting for Eos to come home. And he will wait another week, and then a month, and then longer, just for her to come home.

**Author's Note:**

> i know a certain someone will think i killed eos but shes not dead probably definitely maybe


End file.
